An Introduction To Hair Products
by MissAppropriation
Summary: One day, the Doctor gets curious as to what all the fuss is about. Very, very short. Very, very fluffy. I'm not remotely sorry for this. Characters: Tiny Master, War Doctor. Time War Team Series: Part 4.


**An Introduction To Hair Products**

The Master sat in front of the mirror in his room, scowling at his own reflection.

His hair was _not _behaving today.

He growled in aggravation and tried again to get it _just _right.

"Come on," the Doctor called from the TARDIS corridor, clapping his hands together insistently. "Chop chop, Daleks to kill. What's taking so long?"

The Master eyed his friend's reflection as he appeared in the doorway. "You can't rush perfection," he said.

The Doctor sighed softly. This incarnation of the Doctor, the _War Doctor _as he liked to call himself, was the most patient the Doctor had ever been. But even he didn't like to sit still for long.

"Honestly, I don't understand what all the fuss is about," the Doctor said. "It's not as if the Daleks will care what you look like."

"_I _care," the Master said haughtily. Because that's what _really _mattered.

The Doctor stepped forward to join his friend, poking curiously at the Master's assortment of hairstyling paraphernalia. "What is all this even _for_?" he asked, bewildered.

The Master cocked his head and pointed sarcastically. "Well, that's called a _hairbrush _and that one's a _comb_."

The Doctor smiled. "Very funny."

"That wasn't a joke," the Master snarked. And then he got a wonderful idea. "Here," he said, trying not to give the game away by smiling too wide. "I'll show you."

"Alright, then," the Doctor shrugged amiably.

The Master stood on his chair and the Doctor bent his head so his friend could reach.

The Master applied some pomade to his hands and ran them through the Doctor's eternally-messy hair. He carefully combed down the sides and spiked up the middle into a rough pyramid.

"Done!" he announced.

The Doctor turned to view his new look in the mirror as the Master giggled triumphantly at the comedic genius he'd achieved.

"Well..." the Doctor said, turning his head from side to side.

The Master clapped, snickering.

"Oh, I like that," the Doctor concluded sincerely.

The Master stopped laughing and threw his arms wide in disbelief. "What?!" he exclaimed.

"That's nice," the Doctor said thoughtfully. "I like it. I think I'll keep this." He poked delicately at his spiked hair. "How do you make it stand up like that? Is there a trick to it?"

"No!" the Master said, shaking his head emphatically. "No. You're not supposed to _like _it. I was trying to _make fun _of you!"

The Doctor just shrugged, nodding at his own absurd reflection in quiet satisfaction. "I think it looks good."

The Master dropped his face into both hands and shook his head in disgust. He should have known better, really. "You ruin _everything _," he muttered, annoyed that his prank had backfired. "Fine! Daleks," he said, jumping down to the floor. "Let's go." He really felt like blowing some stuff up all of a sudden.

He stared at his friend judgmentally as they piloted the TARDIS to her destination. The Doctor pretended not to notice.

"You're _really _going out like that?" the Master asked as they landed with a solid thunk.

"Why not?" the Doctor responded, unabashed.

"No one is going to take you seriously, looking like that," the Master informed him, freckled nose wrinkling in disapproval. "The Daleks will develop a sense of humor just to _laugh _at you."

"Well then, I suppose it's a good thing you're here," the Doctor replied. "At least they'll take one of us seriously."

The Master was perfectly happy with this for a moment... Until he saw the twinkle in his friend's eyes. "People take me seriously!" he squeaked indignantly. He pulled himself up to his full three and a half foot height, arms crossed, just to show how threatening he was.

"They might not, if they knew how much time you spend on your hair," the Doctor mocked.

"You're annoying," the Master glared. Not his best comeback ever but he was entirely confident in its accuracy.

The Doctor chuckled. "Must be the hairdo," he said, opening the TARDIS doors.

"It's _definitely _not the hairdo," the Master grumbled, following him outside into the War.

The Doctor being annoying was a Universal constant. As was his insistence on looking as silly as possible in any given situation.

In introducing the Doctor to styling products, had he just played right into the Doctor's hands? How far would the Doctor take this new knowledge?

The Master suddenly worried that he may have created a monster.

_The End_

* * *

... And somewhere in the future, 10's hair is born.

Thanks for reading! :) :)


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